Unmasking the Point of No Return
by TrekFan24905
Summary: The cast of PotO is under investigation by Det. Rebekah McLeod. Humor.
1. A New Case

**Description: Rebekah McLeod, member of a highly specialized division of law enforcement that polices crimes committed in literary and cinematic realms known as the Fictional Character Response Unit, investigates the events that transpired in the Opera Populaire. ****Humor (may morph into an outright parody, you never know). **

**Disclaimer 1 (for the lawyers): I own absolutely nothing! There is no profit being made on this. This PhanPhic is for nothing more than fan appreciation. **

**Disclaimer 2 (for the readers): Christine, Raoul bashing ahoy! Slight use of language, but nothing you can't say on TV... yet.  
**

**A/N: This is my first PotO Phic... so any and all comments are welcome. I always try to take my reviewer's opinions into consideration, so don't be afraid to hit me with some constructive criticism!  
**

"Evenin', Miss Daae."

"Good evening, Detective," she gave me a tired little smile.

I knew the Captain had kept her here for at least two hours now, questioning and re-questioning her. He'd finally given up and passed her on to me because I was the best... that and the Skipper had deemed this one "utterly incomprehensible" and "oblivious." So the whole thing had pretty much been dropped into my lap with very little warning and even less prep time.

_"What am I looking at here, Cap'n?" _I had asked him when he first informed me of my newest case.

_"Well, that's the problem. Our alleged victim's boyfriend has filed charges against a man who he claims kidnapped his gal. Thing is, he's pretty riled up; we aren't getting anything of much use out of him. And we've been trying to hear the girl's side of it, but she's unreachable. I can't get the time of day out of her."_

_I skimmed over the file he had handed me as he talked; it was thin and sketchy. They certainly hadn't gotten very far with this, in fact they hadn't even identified the supposed __'napper._

___"She in shock?" I remember asking him. It wasn't uncommon for people to come in here traumatized, and considering that this girl wasn't even out of her teens, it seemed to be the likely explanation._

___"Nope. Actually, she's pretty lucid, all things considered..."_

___I cocked my head to the side in interest, "So what's the issue, Skip?"_

___"In a word: she's a ditz." _

___"Oh?"_

___"Oh, yeah. Got this look to her like a startled fawn in a searchlight. And for some God-awful reason every time I ask her a question that requires more'n a word or two to answer, she breaks out into song!" _

___I just about choked on my coffee. "W-what?" I sputtered through desperate little coughs. Surely he was only blowing smoke, wouldn't be the first time either. _

___The Captain just nodded solemnly at me and waited for my hack attack to subside before confirming, "You heard me right," then he added in a mumble, to no one in particular it seemed, "Damn kid thinks she's in a Disney flick or something."_

___I gave a little snort._ High time you get to deal with one of the weirdos, _I thought_, sitting in your plush little office all day while the rest of us are out fryin' out brain cells trying to talk with all the crazies that we get in here.

_________Of course, I harbored no ill will toward my Captain, he'd helped me out of more scrapes than anyone else in this department - plus he lets me get away with much more than I ought to - I was just bustin' his chops. It's kinda our thing._

_"I won't argue that it's not strange," I said to him, and couldn't help the smirk that had come to my face, "but certainly it ain't 'God-awful' as you say. Her singing can't be _that _bad."_

_An odd look fell over the Captain's face then. His skin whitened, and his eyes seemed far away. It reminded me of the look some of the people in here get when they're recalling something horrid, like a war or a terrible crime they had witnessed._

_"No, Mac, it _can _be that bad. And it _is._" His words came out low and he sounded as if he were very far off rather than standing right there in front of me. To be perfectly honest, it scared the hell out of me. _

_"C'mon, Skip," I shot back, hoping to diffuse the odd aura of foreboding that had wrapped around the man, "No one's voice could be so terrible. Stop ribbin' me!"_

_A flush of color returned to his face then and he smiled at me, "I'm not ribbing ya, kiddo. I tell you this girl has got a set of pipes that can reach frequencies only dogs can hear!" _

_"_Sure_, Skip."_

_"It's true! I'd bet my badge on it. She's got one of those uber-high pitched voices that cuts through you like nails on a chalkboard. Sometimes you can't even understand what it is she's trying to sing, her voice is up so high."_

_I just rolled my eyes. Of course I knew the kind of voice he was describing, and I've never been all too fond of the type. Hell, it gave me a violent shiver down the spine just to think of one. But no matter how head-splittingly high this chick's voice could get, he still didn't have good reason to zone-out like a vet having a 'Nam flashback and damn near give me a panic attack thinking one of my best friends was on the edge. _

_"So the kid can't sing," I said, more to myself than the Captain. "And you're dumping her on me so my that ears have a turn to bleed."_

_"I'm dumping her on you because we need her to talk. Accusations like these can't go uninvestigated. Not to mention, the boyfriend's high society, if we don't do our damnedest on this case he can cause this station major problems. Just go in and work your magic and for your own sake avoiding asking complicated questions at all cost. Unless of course you're in a particularly masochistic mood today. At any rate, I'd suggest wearing ear plugs."_

Not five minutes after our pleasant little chat, I found myself here: standing in the dimly lit debrief room face-to-face with Ms. Christine Daae, the clueless wonder.

I don't know what I was expecting to find when I got here, but she definitely wasn't it.

She looked _normal._ Or, at least as normal as people were around here. She had big, round chocolate colored eyes. _Like a puppy dog's,_ I though idly. I never much liked dogs. Too needy, too trusting. Cats were so much better... Her bouncy, brown curls looked like they belonged in a 1980's music video. I wondered vaguely how many bottles of hairspray the girl must go through a day to keep the big-hair look alive.

"I'm Detective Rebekah McLeod," I told her as I took a seat across from her.

"What happened to Captain Anders?" she asked.

"The Captain doesn't really handle investigations on this level. We were just short staffed when he was in here with you. I've been assigned to your case," I dropped her file onto the table between us.

"Oh, wonderful. We can be BFF's!"

I stared blankly at her. _BFF's? Lord give me strength..._

"Let's cut to the fat of it, Ms. Daae. You boyfriend, a Mr... de Chagny? Yes? Mr. de Chagny has filed a complaint claiming that you were kidnapped, the evening last. Can you tell me what happened to you the other night at the Opera Populaire?"

"Hm?" she looked at me a moment her face totally devoid of expression. Something in her dull gaze unnerved me, I was more than relieved when she answered. "Oh! I sang. Would you like to hear?"

"Um, no that's quite all right, Ms. Daae. What were-- "

Suddenly my eardrums were bombarded with what was easily one of the most horrible sounds I've ever heard. Something that was like a cross between the sound a stalling car engine makes and the unholy screech of a howler monkey.

_"Pa-a-st the point of no return!" _Christine sang.

With my hands clamped securely over my throbbing ears, I jumped out of my chair screaming "Stop! Stop! For the love of Andrew Lloyd Webber, stop!!'

Mercifully, the girl fell silent. "What's wrong?" she asked in a small, innocent sounding voice. I suppose that if I had not just been subjugated to a form of torture that put the iron maiden to shame, I would have been more tactful for the obviously naive Daae's benefit. However, my poor ears were still screaming from the assault they had just barely survived moments earlier and I countered harshly "Because you _suck_."

I saw tears spring to her eyes, "B-but," she spluttered through trembling lips, "but my Angel says I sing beautifully."

For I moment, I was convinced she had done permanent damage to my hearing. "Your _what?_"

"My Angel," she answered promptly, her voice had stopped shaking and she sat up straighter in her chair.

"Your... angel."

"My Angel," she smiled, "He sings songs in my head."

_Well, so much for seeming normal.  
_

"OK," I pulled my cell out of my pocket and punched in an all-too-familiar number. After the second ring I got an answer, "Hey Doc, it's me. Listen, uh, I've got someone here I'd like you to talk to. What? Yeah, she's here at the station. Huh? Uh-huh, yep, she'll be here for awhile. You can? Great, just have me paged when you get here. Thanks." I ended the call and placed the phone back in my jeans.

"Ooh, who's coming to visit?" Christine asked eagerly, her dark eyes shining.

"An associate of mine, Dr. Talbot. I have to call him in a lot to help me with my... BFF's."

"Oh, goody. We can all have a grand old time. OH!" she gave a hugh gasp, then asked, "Can we have tea and cookies?"

"Erm... sure?"

Christine started bouncing up and down in her seat, the biggest smile I've ever seen spread over her face. She was clapping her hands together like an idiot.

"So, Ms. Daae, I'm going to leave you for a little while, and when the doctor gets here you two can have a nice long talk and eat cookies and cupcakes and stuff."

Her goofy smile faded in a flash, and she reminded me of a puppy again, "But... Are you coming back, Rebekah?"

It did not escape my notice that her eyes had begun to water again, quickly I replied, "Of course I am, Ms. Daae. I just have to go and sort some things out right now. When you're done speaking with Dr. Talbot I'll come back in and you and I can talk."

"Oh, OK!" the happy, dufus routine was back in full force, I made a mental note to ask the Doc to test especially for Bipolar disorder.

I was halfway to the door when I turned around purposefully, "Oh, and, Ms. Daae? I'd rather you not call me Rebekah."

"Alright, no problem, Becky!"

My jaw clenched. _Becky... does she think I'm five or something?! _"No, Ms. Daae, you're not understanding me. I worked my ass off to become a detective, give me my dues will ya?"

"Certainly!" she called in her chipper voice. As the door to the debriefing room closed shut behind me I heard her call, "See you later, Becca!"

My eyes narrowed into dangerous slits; one of the rookie cops puttering around the station had seen my dark expression and backed away from me, her eyes wide. I heaved a sigh, _I hate Mondays._

**'K, so that's chapter one. Let me know if you think it's worthy of continuing.  
**


	2. Lobby Chatter

**Description: Rebekah McLeod, member of a highly specialized division of law enforcement that polices crimes committed in literary and cinematic realms known as the Fictional Character Response Unit, investigates the events that transpired in the Opera Populaire. ****Humor. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

I stormed into the Captain's office, not bothering to knock, and dropped myself heavily onto the chair seated before his desk fixing him with an icy glare that sent most people running off in the other direction. Not Anders, though. The Skipper just looked back at me totally unfazed and continued to dig at the excess earwax in his auricle with a pencil. _Jeez, was he using the pointed end? _

"That was quick," he commented after awhile, still mining absently into his ear, "What'd ya do, beat the information out of her?"

"Why didn't you tell me she was psycho, Captain?" I snapped back, getting straight to the point.

He gave me a patient look, one like a teacher would give to a student who couldn't understand why two plus two equaled four. "Well, Mac, I figured the whole breaking out into spontaneous singing thing was warning enough. I thought you'd be able to connect the dots from there."

I crossed my arms over my chest and pushed on, choosing to ignore the veiled insult he'd just made to my intelligence, "No, Cap'n, randomly bursting into song is eccentric. _Hearing voices_ on the other hand is insane -- Oh, for cyrin' out loud!" I got up from my seat and snatched the No. 2 out of his hand then waved it in his face, "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to stick things in your ears? It's dangerous!"

I sat back down, the pencil still clutched in my fist. He didn't seem to care much about that, however, because he asked me with a touch of incredulity to his tone "She hears _voices_?"

"Yep. 'In her head.' She claims it's an angel or something."

The Skipper's eyebrows had disappeared somewhere into his hairline, which was quite an accomplishment considering that the man was going bald, and he sighed, sounding as tired as I felt. "I take it you called Talbot, then?"

"Uh-huh. He's on his way now. I'm gonna let him talk to her for a spell, see what he can dig up for us. In the meantime, I'll have to try and find some other avenue to continue with the investigation... is the boyfriend here by any chance? De Chagny?"

"Should be," the Captain replied with a pensive look gracing his features, "At least he was half an hour ago. Down in the main lobby. He had had a couple of women with him then, they said they saw the whole thing. Hopefully at least one of them hung around for you to talk to." He reached into his desk and pulled out a paper to hand to me, "If not, here's a list of witnesses you can try tracking down. De Chagny is on there, so are the two who came in with him. Giry, I think they said their names were. From the way they talked, I'm guessing they're Daae's family. Have fun."

I took the sheet and went to leave, but before I reached the door he called me back, "Oh, and Mac?"

"Captain?"

That grin. "Just thought I'd _warn_ you so I don't have to deal with the death-stare later on... de Chagny's not exactly playing with a full deck of cards himself, if you catch my drift."

_Wonderful._ "Thanks, Skip."

Ten minutes and fifteen flights of stairs later I stepped into the first floor main lobby, panting like dog strung out on Red Bull. Of course the elevators had to choose today to break down; and my mood wasn't improved by the annoying groups of first-year cops who seemed to have made it their collective goal in life to block up all stairwells and hallways across the entire building.

The lobby was packed unusually full for a Monday night; normally we didn't see this many folks until Friday or Saturday, which seemed to be the days of choice for people to raise hell about missing bikes or swindling con men. I had trouble hearing my own thoughts over the noise of countless conversations throughout the cavernous room. I looked down at the list Captain Anders had given me, then made my way over to the front desk. Jumping up onto the receptionist's vast counter so that I could be seen above the crowd, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted over their heads, "Is there a Mr. Raoul de Chagny and Antoinette or Meg Giry here?"

About half of the room turned to look at me, but I got no response. Refusing to acknowledge the perturbed secretary's demands for me to get down from her "work space" I hollered again, "I need to speak with anyone who can give me information pertaining to a Ms. Christine Daae."

When again I received no sort of answer, I hopped down from the counter.

It was then that I heard someone making their way through the throng to me. After a moment, a figure burst out from the dense mass of people to stand before me. She had shoulder length brownish-blond hair. Blue eyes that at the moment looked anything but friendly. She wore a white shirt and black pants... _odd._ I had read in the file that these people were supposed to be from late 19th century France. Were women even _allowed _to wear pants then? Oh, well, I never was considered to be a history buff. What did I know?

"_You _are handling my Christine's case?" she demanded immediately. Her voice surprised me; it was deeper than I had expected it to be from her physical appearance, although still noticeably feminine.

"Yes. I'm Det. Rebekah McLeod, FCRU." I held out my hand for her to shake but she just plowed on, my offer unnoticed.

"Where have you gotten with it?"

"Not very far, I'm afraid," I responded, putting on a very controlled and professional sounding tone, "I was hoping perhaps to speak with some of the witnesses and close acquaintances of Ms. Daae to get some more insight into --"

"She's been up there since 7:00 PM! And you still haven't gotten anywhere? What kind of a detective are you!?"

_Well aren't you just a heartbeat away from having your obnoxious little face shoved into a toilet bowl. _

I took a deep breath and tried to put on a voice that would sound understanding and apologetic... I'm not so sure how well it worked, "Pardon me, _ma'am_. But all investigations take a certain amount of time for the officer in charge to get their bearings, gather information, and begin to work things out; add that to the fact that I just got assigned to this one a mere thirty minutes ago and there's bound to be some lacking in the quantity of policing. I'm doing all I can. It's my job to get to the bottom of this, which I'm going to do with or without your cooperation and statement. But it makes things a whole lot easier when we work together, so I'd really appreciate you calming down and using an indoor voice when speaking to me," my own had raised considerably as I said this last part, but I didn't care.

I took another calming gulp of air then continued in earnest, "Now I understand this is a difficult situation for you. But I need you to help me here... for Christine's sake. First, what is your name and relation to Ms. Daae, ma'am?"

The woman stared at me, anger and confusion fought for the dominant expression over her face. She said nothing.

"Are you her... sister?" I tried.

The woman exploded, her voice bouncing off every surface of the lobby, "WHAT? What would make you think I could ever possibly be Christine's _sister_?"

"Uh --"

"I think it is quite obvious that I am NOT a member of the fairer sex!"

_Oops._

My false assumption hit me hard, and it was difficult to keep the laughter that rose from my chest from busting loose. I could feel my face turning red from the effort and was glad that she -- I mean _he _assumed it was nothing more than embarrassment on my part.

Sh -- _he _fixed me with a self righteous look, "Your insensitive mistake will be forgiven, Detective, you need only ask."

Like I was about to ask _him_ for forgiveness, the pretty-boy snob.

Pretending as if I hadn't heard him, I asked if he were Raoul de Chagny.

"Certainly. _Vicomte _Raoul de Chagny -- " ('Vicomte?_' I smell a fop...) "_-- I am Christine Daae's fiancee!"

"Poor kid," I muttered under my breath. "What was that?" he asked in his girlie voice. "Oh, nothing, just making a note here, sir."

That seemed to suffice him as I scribbled nonsense onto the witness list in my hand to back up the lie, I was sure to keep the paper out of his line of vision lest he see.

"Now, can you tell me what happened last night to Ms. Daae at the Opera Populaire? I need to know everything you saw, it might help us identify the kidnapper."

"Identify him?" de Chagny looked befuddled, "Why do you need to identify anyone? I _know _who did it!"

My head shot up in alert. Great! The sooner I can put this guy away, the sooner I'll be done with this storming she-male and the unmercifully drab schizo up on the fifteenth floor.

"Who is he, Mr. de Chagny?"

He made a dramatic motion with his hands then declared to the entire lobby, "It was the Opera Ghost!"

_You've got to be kidding me._

I stood momentarily at a loss for words, I could feel the eyes of the surrounding crowd on us but didn't care. "Um," I stumbled out dumbly, "Your fiancee was kidnapped... by a _ghost _you say."

He nodded his head in vigorous agreement, "But not just _any _ghost," he told me, "It was the O. G.! The Phantom of the Opera!"

"Whazzat now?"

"The Phantom..."

"... Of the Opera?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

_Another loony. Wonder-friggin'-ful._

"Alright, Mr. de Chagny. I have a doctor friend who would love to hear all about this ghost of yours. Would you mind staying around to talk to him later?"

"I do not need nor want to converse with one of your doctors! The Phantom is real. He is real. Real. _Real_. REAL!" He was yelling again in his high pitched, shrill voice, and people were gawking.

"OK, OK, I believe you. But perhaps we should continue this upstairs, sir," I said glancing around at the onlookers. He calmed a bit then and I led him to the stairway. Just as I was beginning to curse my luck and modern technology for blessing us with the convenience of elevators but then cruelly putting them in and out of commission at random intervals to suit its own twisted, vindictive accord, I heard someone yell for me.

"Det. McLeod!" I turned from my place at the first step of a long, toiling series of them to see an older gentleman in the navy blues of a janitor. I didn't know his name but I'd seen him around the department a lot. "You needn't go up that way, Miss! The lifts are working again."

_Well, thank God for small favors._


	3. A Doc, A Cop, and A Fop

**Description: Rebekah McLeod, member of a highly specialized division of law enforcement that polices crimes committed in literary and cinematic realms known as the Fictional Character Response Unit, investigates the events that transpired in the Opera Populaire. ****Humor. **

**Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera is, unfortunately, not mine. Nor are any other trademarks or copyrights that may appear in the course of this fanfic.  
**

A considerably short elevator ride later, de Chagny and I were deposited off on the fifteenth floor. We had just stepped out of the lift when the PA system rang out overhead. _"McLeod to the FCRU front desk. McLeod come to the front desk."_

_The Doc._

"Mr. de Chagny, I have to go meet someone. If you could just -- MR. DE CHAGNY??"

The man was curled up into a ball at my feet, rocking back and forth. His words were muffled because his face was pressed down into his knees but as I bent down closer to him I could hear him blabbering over and over, "The voices! AHH! They've come _baaack_!"

I wrestled him arms out of their iron grip around his legs and forced his face up to look at me then explained soothingly, "Mr. de Chagny, it was only the PA system. Nothing more. I heard it, too. You have nothing to be scared of!"

He looked at me looking unsure as to whether or not he should believe me. "The 'PA system?'"

"Yes, sir. It's just a modern invention. Nothing that can hurt you."

"How does it work?" he asked looking to the ceiling in awe. "Well, I don't know the specifics, but you pick up a phone, dial in the code, then when you talk into the receiver it gets pushed out through the speakers all over the building."

"But how does it do it?" he asked.

_Like dealing with a child. _"I guess the sound waves from your voice are translated into an electronic signal that can be sent through the elaborate telephone systems they've got and then it's put back into your voice when it reaches it's destination."

"Yeah, but _how _does it do it?"

_Ugh._

"Magic, Mr. de Chagny." What? I didn't have all night to explain this stuff to him.

"_Magic_?" he repeated with glee, "Oh, how delightful!"

I helped him get back to his feet then pointed down the way to where my desk sat at the far corner of the department. "Could you go sit over there and wait for me, sir? I have to go meet with somebody briefly."

He nodded and then skipped -- you heard me right, never before had I seen a grown man skip until just now -- down the floor to my makeshift office.

I shook my head after him before starting out toward the FCRU's front desk and the little wait area on the other side of the floor.

Doc Talbot was there, waiting for me on one of the old leather couches in front of the Unit's secretary's counter. "Hiya, Doc. Thanks for coming on such short notice."

"Not a problem, Detective. What can I do for you tonight?"

I lead him back toward the debriefing room, where Daae still waited inside and filled him in on what little I could. "I can't be sure, but I think she's schizophrenic or something," I told him just as we reached the door to the dark room.

"And is that you _medical _opinion, _Detective_?" he always got a bit touchy when people attempted to do his job for him.

"Alright, keep your shirt on, Doc. I'll leave all the diagnosing to you," I said, my head hung slightly in shame. I didn't like it when others tried to tell me my business either. "I'm just saying, audio hallucinations, wild stories about angels... it fits the bill don't it?"

"We'll see," he said. "I'll run some basic psychological exams on her. I don't have the time to do a full IQ test, but I'll see if I can't give you a rough estimate from a condensed evaluation, as well."

"Thanks," I told him again, and he disappeared into debrief.

No more excuses. I made a beeline for my desk, ready to question de Chagny. _Maybe it wouldn't be so bad_, I thought hopefully, _after all he seemed to have chilled out a bit on the ride up. He was just concerned for his girl, that's all. He's not always so obtuse, I'm sure. _Oh, cruel fate! I sat down in my familiar seat across from the Vicomte and noted right away that his sour attitude had returned with a vengeance.

"This chair is too hard!" he complained the moment I arrived.

"I'm sorry, Mr. de Chagny, but it's all I have." He gave me a look that clearly said he didn't believe me; I guess he thought I was being a bitch, I don't know.

"Sir, tell me about this... Opera Ghost," I pressed right away, wanting to get him out of here ASAP.

"Humph! That silly specter! He's been trying to steal my Christine for years! Everybody is after her, but that one is the worst!! She's mine and he just can't understand that. _Mine_."

S_uper jealous psycho boyfriend alert: tread lightly, if necessary, take evasive action._

"Um, Mr. de Chagny, what makes you think a ghost is trying to 'steal' Ms. Daae?"

He rolled his eyes and gave me a look as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "_Because, _I saw him take her and I had to track him down and steal her back from him!"

"But Mr. de Chagny... ghosts don't exist."

He gave me another one of those looks, "Of course they don't. Let's not be preposterous!"

"And yet you say, sir, that Ms. Daae was in fact kidnapped by a ghost."

He exhaled sharply in frustration at what he must have thought of as my idiocy, when he spoke again it was slow and deliberate and it made me want to put his head through the wall, "No, it was a _man_ who masqueraded as a _ghost_. Who claimed to be, and lived as if he were a ghost."

_Alright, so are they any sane people living in 1870's France?_

"A man? Who pretended to be a ghost? And he stole Ms. Daae, but you got her back and now you're pressing charges. Is that about right?"

He sighed in exasperation, "Yes!"

"Do you know where I can find this man, Mr. de Chagny? Where he lives?"

His face scrunched up into a look of disgust, "I doubt that _thing _even has a name. And he lives like a rat in the sewers under the Opera House."

"He lives in the sewers?" Ugh.

De Chagny nodded his confirmation. While I wrote everything down on the paper pad on my desk.

"Sir, why would this man want to kidnap Christine Daae?"

"Because he wants to make me suffer! Everyone is out to get me." Suddenly the Vicomte broke out into hysterical tears, "_Why doesn't anybody like meeee_?" I sat uncomfortably in my chair waiting for him to stop. As I waited a glass scattering scream rang out from across the department. Everyone on the floor turned to face the debriefing room that I had left Dr. Talbot in just moments before.

"_I was promised pastries! Cookies and cupcakes and tea! Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY?_" I recognized Christine's voice lashing out through the walls.

_Aw crap._

There were crashing sounds coming from the room and Christine had begun to sing of the injustice of not having her sweets. The doctor must be in hell right about now, even with the barrier of concrete and plasterboard between the department and the debrief room her singing was having a devastating affect on her unwilling audience, but Talbot was actually in there _with_ her. I stood up onto my desk and addressed the entire Unit, which had begun to clasp at their heads in pitiful defense against her superhuman shrillness, "Attention! If you want the cacophony of pain to stop, someone take her in some donuts, right now!" I had to yell at the top of my voice to drown out Daae's and to have my words heard through the hands people had placed over their ears.

When no one made a move to do anything I got ticked and started yelling hotly, "Don't be asshats! This is a police station, I know _someone_ stopped in at a Dunkin Donuts before getting here!"

Finally, somebody ran by me with a box of chocolate frosted, custard filled tasties toward the offended -- and offending -- singing. "Good. Now someone take her in some coffee, too," I said, then added quickly, "And make sure it's decaf!"

I jumped back off my desk and resumed my seat. The noise subsided seconds later and I turned back to de Chagny who had stopped crying.

His eyes were bright and he had an star-struck look on his face, "My darling Little Lotte's heavenly voice. Oh, how it lifts my spirit!"

_Was he deaf?_

I cleared my throat to regain his attention and picked up with where we had left off, "So this man, the Opera Ghost, has some sort of a vendetta against you?"

It took him a few seconds to get back on track I suppose, but finally he answered with a strong, resounding, "Yes!" then for the second time that night I found myself clutching at my ears protectively. De Chagny had done the unexpected: he started singing right there in the middle of a crowded police station. Although his voice was considerably better than Daae's, it still wasn't pleasant:

_"She had swore to me one love one lifetime/But he had saw and decided to --"  
_

"Stop, Mr. de Chagny! Stop!!!" Naturally, he didn't. So I leaped from my seat and slapped him across the face.

The moment my hand collided with his cheek, his girlie vocalizations ceased. He stared at me in shock, his eyes twice their normal size...

And then he fainted.

"Mr. de Chagny!" I ran around the desk and checked his pulse and breathing. He was fine. Just whited out from the smack. "Good God, man." I muttered to his sleeping form, honestly what kind of guy passes out from a little slap?

"What the hell did you do, McLeod?"

"Captain!"

I turned to see the Skipper towering above me. He looked mad.

"He... he just passed out!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah!" I replied defensibly, "He was singing... I guess he reached a note he just couldn't carry."

I could tell Skip wasn't buying it, but his face softened. He let out a low sigh. "Well, have someone bring him into my office and lay him down on the couch." As he walked away I could hear him mumbling about lawsuits and paperwork.

I called over a sturdy looking patrolman who was a few desks down from me and together we carried de Chagny's limp body into the Captain's office and dropped him unceremoniously onto the beat up couch against the wall. The Captain entered just as we were heading out.

"You look tired, Mac," he told me.

"I am."

"Talbot's in talking to Daae?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Why don't you go take a nap in the crib. You'll be needing it."

"Thanks, Skip."

I walked out and headed to the small, sound proof room designated for us cops to catch some Z's. We had affectionately named it the crib. It was set up to be used by officers off-duty, but working big cases which didn't leave them much time left over to run back and forth from home to work. Although a lot of people, rookies mostly, liked to sneak in while on the clock to doze. It had about twenty cots set out at any given time. I fell onto the first one by the door and was asleep before I could even take off my shoes.


End file.
